Between the stacks
by ishouldjustwriteporn
Summary: John Watson find himself strangely attracted to Sherlock Holmes, he has only seen him a couple of times in the library, but that does not seem to matter. Things go down (you have been warned).
1. Chapter 1 - Library

This is the first time I have ever written fan fiction (just as a warning), but I would love to hear what you think. There are probably some spellings errors, and to all the grammar nazis out there, I am truly sorry. Dyslexia, mixed with English as a second language and a bad spellchecker can take some of the blame.

Chapter 1: Library

John was in the library again. He didn´t need to study, not really, he just wanted to see _him_ again. Sitting down at a table near the entrance, he smiled at the librarian. He had talked to her before, when he came here to really study. She smiled back at him shyly, pushing her hazel hair behind ear. Molly Hooper, librarian in every way. John opened his bag and found his textbook and notepad to take some notes, but he ended up doodling though. Waiting. He had come to the library everyday that week. It had all started three weeks ago; he had actually needed to study then. He had taken one of his many stares into the air, because it was better than reading, if not just as boring, breaks when he saw him across the room. He had been in the company of Molly Hooper, walking behind him trying to get a word in while he pulled book after book of the shelves. Tall and lanky, his black curls framing his long face he looked quite irritated, it was a bizarre scene, in which Molly ended up carrying most of his books for him. John had been puzzled, he seemed to be picking books at random the speed he was going or he had to have memorized their place, which would be stupid. He talked in a constant stream till Molly had finally checked out all his books and he was ready to leave. The entire time Molly had tried her most charming smile, straightening her skirt one to many times. He supposed the fellow could possibly be considered handsome by some people, no Brad Pitt, but in a Steven Fry way, sure.

That had been the beginning of it, but because of John´s many looking-into-the-air breaks that was not his last visit the to library that week, the next time. The black haired man was sitting at one of the tables furthest inn, closer to the stacks, he was reading a gigantic book, which had to have a thick layer of dust covering it. John sat at his usual spot near the door, picking up his book and starting to read again. Suddenly a deep voice echoed highly through the library, "Obviously!" followed by many turned heads towards the back where the black haired man closed the book with a loud band. Molly was entering a side door with a cup of coffee which she dropped on the floor. Buttoning his dark coat and turning the collar up, got up from his chair handed the heavy book to Molly and said something to her, which she returned with an apologetic smile.

John asked Molly that day who the fellow was, she had blushed deeply pink and said "Sherlock Holmes, he is a student at the University too, though I am not really sure what he studies, it seems to be everything." So three weeks later, three weeks with concealed stares across the library trying to figure out more about this "Sherlock Holmes" hadn´t led to much. He was always alone and seemed to always to hurrying. John had not tried to speak with him yet, there seemed to be no room for conversation in his hurried studies. Though words fell out of his mouth in a constant stream or sometimes not at all when Molly brought him his coffee.

This time when he entered he was different, coat flying behind him he looked bored, not irritated or excited as he had previously, not in such a hurry either. Partially ignoring Molly, only giving her a slow look he went inn between the rows of shelves. John waited for him to come out again with armfuls of books, but 5 minutes, 10 minutes passed and nothing.

John felt the curiosity bubbling in the pit of his stomach, slowly he got up and walked over to the shelves, they were tall, taller than him, taller than this Holmes, with their front facing the room. He looked down the corridor Holmes had ventured, but it was disappointingly empty. Talking a step forward he looked down the crossing path between the shelves. Nothing. He continued walking down, looking both ways between the shelves for a glimpse of him. He saw an old professor type with his head in a book, a young kid, probably also at university sleeping with his back up against a shelf and a couple that separated quickly with him entering their file. He had almost reached the back wall when we suddenly walked into him, surprise caught John and he fell backwards. A bunch of old magazines flew everywhere, many landing on John where he lay on his back on the floor. Sherlock looked a bit surprised as well, just clutching a few magazines now he looked down at John.

"Sorry", John mumbled hurriedly, embarrassed that his curiosity had gotten the best of him. He sat up and took the bunch of magazines that had landed on him in his hands. It was a weird collection, everything from science magazines, to newspapers, women's magazines and math monthly. John looked at them a bit curiously as he got to his feet. Sherlock was already busy picking up the rest of them. "That is quite alright," he said giving John a level look. His eyes were really dark, they drew you in John suddenly discovered as he was peering into them just a little longer than was appropriate with strangers. He could feel heat in his cheeks and nodded at Sherlock Holmes before he quickly walked on down between the books. He wanted to turn and look back the Holmes, but decided not to, as that would be stupid. He reached the second to last row, it was thankfully empty and he turned in. Sinking to the floor, leaning on a shelf of books on religion in the 17th century John let the breath he didn´t know he had been holding. Why was this Sherlock so intriguing? What the hell did he need women´s magazines for? And what has he studying?

John sat there awhile thinking about Sherlock, he was lean, not lanky he decided. Definite muscles under that tights purple shirt he wore. John shook his head. When had he started sitting on library floors thinking about other men? Today apparently, but that would also be the end of it.

He got up, brushed some dust of this jeans and walked slowly back into the better lit section of the library. Holmes was already in his seat reading one of the magazines with his usual cup of coffee next to him. John slid back down into his own seat on the opposite side of the room. He looked at Holmes carefully reading what looked at that distance to be one of the science magazines. He had his eyebrows pushed together, stern look on his face, tapping impatiently with fingers on his left hand.

Suddenly their eyes met, Holmes had looked up from his magazine and they were staring at each other. John could not remember to look away, all his brain function was lost in being caught looking so abruptly. Holmes´ gaze lightened slightly to a stern, but curious look. Thankfully at that moment Molly walked up to Sherlock, breaking their lines of sight, escaping from eternal cycle of dark eyes, John packed his bag as quickly as he could manage and headed for the door. His heart was beating had in his chest, stomach doing summersaults.

He felt so stupid, why was he acting to weird all of a sudden? John looked at his watch, it was ten to seven, his mates would be down at the pub having a pint. John felt like the company of someone who were a bit simpler and decided to head over there right away. He was wearing blue jeans with a red sweater, that didn´t exactly go with his complexion or light hair, and it wasn´t completely clean either. But everything would be better the minute he got his hands on a pint or two.


	2. Chapter 2 - Pints at the Pub

Chapter 2: Pints at the Pub

Sherlock looked after the blond boy, the one that had been staring at him. He seemed to be in a hurry. Sherlock picked up the magazine again and started reading. He thought he had seen him before today, before he bumped into him among the shelves, though he wasn´t sure. His eyes had been big and blue, ruffled blond hair and freckles. He had looked surprised, embarrassed and a little scared. Molly had interrupted the moment though, asking him out, again.

He had just finished another case and was in an in-between faze, so he agreed, tough reluctantly to accompany her to a pub. She had smiled at him and fluttered on about something Sherlock didn´t catch watching the boy leave.

He continued reading the magazines until Molly started to go about her own business again. A bit of depth that might be relevant for his new case, if he ever manage to find another.

John entered the pub, like he thought his mates were already there, Don, Greg and Anderson. He didn´t even know Anderson´s first name, everyone just called him Anderson. They were sitting in the far corner of the pub, each with a pint in front of him. He walked over. "Hey John." Greg called, "sit down and relax. You look a bit flustered there mate." John smiled at them and took the empty seat next to Don. "Yeah," John said a bit reluctantly. "I´ve been to the library, big test coming up soon." That was a lie of course.

The conversation drifted to football, something Don and Greg were happy to discuss at length, Anderson didn´t seem to be happy about anything, but that was just how he was all the time. The pub was empty with the exception of them and a couple of old guys at the bar. In a couple of hours it would be filled with students having a pint before going home to "study". The afternoon passed with surprising speed, laughs got higher, conversations louder. The pub was filled to the brim with students chatting, flirting, you could not see across the room it was so filled. John felt the buzz in his head growing stronger as he finished another beer. He decided to get another, the night was still young right? Walking over to the bar, pushing past groups of people, trying not to elbow any of the cute girls in the boobs. The bar itself was as busy as the pub, but the bartender was chatting up some girls that were at least twenty years too young for him at the end of the bar. John positioned himself at the other end, it was the least crowded, with actually a couple of feet to the next person.

That's when he saw him, black curls, long dark coat, he was standing near the exit next to Molly, the librarian. She seemed to be pleased. The talked for a bit, until she made her excuses and left. Sherlock scanned the room, but didn't see him. He started to make his way across the room, John followed him with his eyes. He reached a table not too far from were Anderson, Greg and Don were sitting. He approached a woman, slender, dark haired she looked up at Holmes through her eyelashes. He looked down at her too, deeply. Dark eyes, closer, she smiled at him. Their lips met furiously. John could not take his eyes away from them, his fingers on her waist, her fingers grabbing his neck, pulling him down, harder. They were so close, and then nothing separated them, grinding together. John felt his stomach heave. Gripping the bar tight John breathed hard. Their bodies were pulsating, lips moving faster and faster. Hands gripping tighter around what they could reach.

The woman suddenly pressed Sherlock to the wall they were standing next to, his knee appearing from underneath the hem of her skirt. John could see Sherlock's face more clearly now, even from across the room he looked dashing. Sweat on his forehead, next bent back and head resting on the wall the woman was kissing his neck. He had his eyes closed long dark eyelashes fluttering. Lips parted slightly. He seemed to be breathing as heavily as John, but with a better reason. John could not explain the feeling in his stomach growing as he watched the other man. Then Sherlock opened his eyes, their gazes met, John felt so hot, angling his pelvis towards the bar too not accidently poke someone. Sherlock smiled at John and closed his eyes again, leaning back moaning.

John made his way out of the pub as fast as he could manage. He went down the nearest alley, thankfully it was empty. Leaning on the cold brick wall still breathing heavy, John closed his eyes, but all he could see was Sherlock's face. To this point in his life he had been sure he was straight, but he could not deny the feelings he got for that man.


	3. Chapter 3 - An unexpected journey

Chapter 3: An unexpected journey

Having avoided the library like the plague for a couple of weeks, John now desperately needed to go to get some books for a paper he was writing. He hadn't gotten very far, mostly because he had spent his nights thinking about dark curls and masturbating. Peaking through the library door he almost turned around, Holmes was sitting at his usual table surrounded by high stack of books, he looked a bit ruffled turning pages furiously in his book. He didn't however look up as the door opened and John knew that if he went home now he wouldn't come back. Walking as fast and silent as he could possibly manage he made his way through the library on the other side of the room from Holmes. He made it to the stacks unnoticed.

The book he needed was at the back in the medical book section, finding it would probably not be easy without Molly's help, but drawing that much attention to himself was out of the question. Reaching the medical section he started searching, it was in the corner of the library, a little cave enclosed by two shelves and a wall, partly blocked by a third shelf. John started reading over the titles of the books, trying to find the right starting letter of the book he has looking for. It was not in the first shelf, turning he suddenly stood face-to-face with Sherlock Holmes, or rather face-to-chest, John only reaching Holmes to the chin and all. He looked down at John and smiled. John would have said he smiled seductively if not for the demonstration of his sexuality at the bar.

"See anything you like," Holmes asked quietly. A thousand thoughts tried to climb their way to John's tongue. Thankfully none that entailed ravishing reached his lips. "Just looking for a book" he stuttered instead, "for a paper."

"I see" Holmes muttered. He was looking at John with his dark eyes. John felt the attraction surging through him again. He wanted to lean up and kiss those lips, _oh_, the lips. Their eyes met again. Suddenly John had his back pushed against one of the shelves, Holmes had a hand on his chest, pushing him. Sherlock was looking down at his fingers, moving them ever so slightly up and down. He looked up at John, he looked a little puzzled, closing the little gap between them, they were so close now, almost touching. His eyes had a sort of intensity in them, his lips set and the dark curls that had hunted John's fantasies framed his face perfectly. Holmes fingers closed and took a hold of his shirt. Their faces were closer now. John could feel Sherlock's fingers through his shirt, warm, so warm. The feeling in his stomach was roaring at this point. Trying very hard not to get a hard-on John straightened his shoulders and was about to clear his throat when suddenly there were no gap. Sherlock's body was everywhere. His hands on John's back pressing John to him while still pressing him to the shelf with his body. John felt the beast in his stomach roaring as their lips met hard. John forgot everything he had been thinking about. Kissing Sherlock was everything he had dream of and more, so much more. The intensity grew, John though his obvious need must be showing, but there and then he didn't care. His body was so warm, Hands gripping, sliding under his shirt, the small of his back, oh. He realized he had his arms in Sherlock's hair, pulling his face down harder, still so much harder. He could feel his erection and knew Sherlock must too, thankfully he wasn't the only one spotting a hard-on. He could feel Sherlock's cock through his pants against his stomach. Sherlock hands were moving down, warm, grabbing. Thankful he hadn't worn a belt John let out a gasp as hands slid down his pants, grabbing his ass. Their pelvises pressed together harder. John could barely contain his moans. Sherlock's lips became slower, deeper, their tongues moving together slowly. Still holding John tight Sherlock let go of the kiss, opening his eyes he found Sherlock looking at him, inches from his face, his eyes full of passion, licking his lips, then they were on John's neck kissing, nibbling. Hands grabbing, it was all John could do not to come right then. John was wearing a plain white shirt, Sherlock removed one of his arms and started unbuttoning, following with his mouth, down, further and further, Sherlock was on his knees, John's stomach received a thorough treatment from Sherlock's mouth. John bent his head back, the pleasure really was too much. He could feel his pants sliding to his knees, his erection that much clearer. Sherlock's mouth made it's way slowly towards the top of his boxer shorts. Oh, too slow. The grip on John's ass lessened as his boxer shorts want to the floor, then grabbed on oh so much harder. He looked down, Sherlock were looking up at him, eye piercing. He held John's gaze as he kissed lower and lower, all around John's cock. It was truly torture, but the best kind. Then he licked the length of it, John closed his eyes, letting it hit the shelf again a pretty loud moan escaped his mouth. Sherlock's mouth enclosed his cock and he came in Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock swallowed it down like a champ. They were both breathing heavily. Sherlock stood, leaning against John he kissed his neck. He was standing with his shirt unbuttoned, pants around his knees in the library, the very public library and more importantly he had just received a blowjob from Sherlock Holmes, who John was pretty sure didn't even know his name.


	4. Chapter 4 - Whiskey, no rocks

_Firstly I would just like to say "thank you!" I had not expected the very positive review and the favorites and stuff. Mostly because I don't really know how this site works, but still. It warms a heart._

Chapter 4: Whiskey, no rocks.

After the incident Sherlock had kissed John and left. Just turned around and left. Leaving John half naked in the library. He didn't really know what he felt. The wonderful sensation mixed with the sudden rejection of being abandoned Maybe he had a thing for mysterious men, that would be new to him, but so was actually liking men, so he really didn't know. Having exchanged no more than a couple of sentences with Holmes this was by far the strangest sexual encounter John had been involved in.

He still felt the thrill of Sherlock's touch. Warm hands had been all over him. The feeling was unfortunately wearing off. The ability to hear other things returning to him gradually. He heard someone coming down the corridor between the stacks. Remembering that he was almost naked, he pulled up his pants and started buttoning his shirt up as fast as he could manage. An old professor rounded the corner and started looking at the medical books John had examined earlier. John had thankfully been able to get himself in order and walk away a quickly he could manage without it being weird.

Fuck him and this new confusing development, and god, he wanted to fuck Sherlock Holmes. Poking his head out between the stacks, he examined the library, Holmes was gone, thankfully? John was not really sure how to introduce himself to someone who had given him a blowjob. When John got home he realized he had completely forgot the book he went to get at the library in the first place. Wikipedia it was then. John sat down at his computer to continue the paper he actually hadn't procrastinated to the very last moment, finding the Wikipedia page he needed and sourcing it with the book he was going to use. Did professors ever check these things? Halfway through John took an Internet break, logging into Facebook he was hit by the sudden realisation that Sherlock Holmes, if he was any sort of normal person probably would have a Facebook page as well. Typing his name slowly in the search bar John took a deep breath and hit enter… nothing.

He didn't have a Facebook page, so he wasn't normal. Thinking about it, nothing he had seen Holmes do up to his point had been even borderline normal, so it shouldn't be much of a surprise. Opening a new tab John typed his name into Google instead, there had to be something. Surprisingly there was quite a lot. First and foremost a website claiming Holmes to be a consulting detective of sorts. It also listed some very weird talents Holmes seemed to think he possessed. Recognizing tobacco ashes, when would that ever come in handy? Following Holmes' own website, a list of articles of things he had done, helped the police, solved crime and other more bizarre things.

John didn't know if he felt more uncomfortable now that he for sure knew Holmes must be a nutcase or when it was all his own suspicions. Because no sane person did that to strangers in the library, right? Still, John could remember the touch and shivered just thinking about it.

Finishing his paper he ordered some Chinese food as a reward to himself. Food would make everything better. He changed quickly into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, comfortable. John lived on the second floor in a small building, in an even smaller apartment. Bathroom, kitchen and living room in one and a small bedroom, that only held his bed and a dresser. The living room had old wallpaper with pictures of flowers in a horrendous green, his own blue couch didn't help much on the impression. The far wall covered with fridge, stove and counter. A breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the living room, that only contained a TV, couch, table, desk, bookshelf. That was it, not much, but thankfully he didn't have to put up with an annoying roommate.

The door rang, he hit the buzzed, "second floor" he said and unlocked the door, opening it. The person coming up the stairs has not the delivery guy with his delicious noodles. Sherlock Holmes looked like he had earlier, black curls, purple shirt, black dress pants and a long dark coat. He was however carrying John's food. He stopped a meter or two away from John, who was standing in the doorway.

"I ran into the delivery guy downstairs," he said looking John straight in the face. John reddened, feelings of earlier too easily recalled. Holmes raised his eyebrows slightly in a "Going-to-invite-me-in-or-what" sort of way. John took a step back motioning for Sherlock to follow with his hand. He did. Putting John's food down on the living room table.

"So this is were you live, John," Sherlock stated. It occurred to John just then, how creepy it was that Sherlock was at his door. How the hell did he know were he lived? And even his name? "How the hell do you know were I live?!" John blurted out quite loudly. Sherlock closed the door behind them and took of his coat, placing it on the coach he sat down. He didn't seem to see the problem with the current situation, while as John got increasingly more embarrassed and uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Grasping the possibly worst solution to the problem John ventured into the kitchen grabbing two glasses and finding a bottle of whiskey in one of his cupboards. Alcohol could not make the situation worse, at least. Setting the glasses on the table, he poured till they were considered to be too full in the whiskey world. Sitting down as far from Sherlock as he would manage on the small sofa John took a big gulp of his whiskey. He didn't particularly like it, hence the reason he still had it, but desperate means and all.

Sherlock took his glass as well, they sat in complete silence for a long while. John drinking quite frequently. Feeling the mix of sexual tension, creep factor and social awkwardness that was his emotional spectrum at the moment he didn't really know what to say. Holmes cleared his throat.

"I should try and explain the reason why I am here." He stated as he had dropped by the cubicle of his boss or college or something. "I am of what you might call, above average intelligence." He smiled a little smugly. Still not looking at John he stared right in front of him. John tried not to look at him, but he wanted too, a bit intrigued. He shouldn't be, but damn. "I deduce things"

All John heard was "seduce", coughing loudly from the whiskey he had swallowed down wrong he started laughing. Already a little buzzed the situation got borderline hysterical. Sherlock looked at him, a bit puzzled by this sudden exclamation of laugher, but then he smiled and started laughing too.

Sitting and laughing on a small couch, it was really quite nice John's brain though. That was probably the reason he bent forward kissing Sherlock on the lips lightly. Sherlock stopped laughing, looking at John, who had trouble containing the urge to just ravish him there and then.


	5. Chapter 5 - Couch Surfing

I am seriously baffled by all the positive things and responses. I would like to thank PixieMiehm for going through this chapeter making it better.

Chapter 5: Couch surfing

Sherlock looked at John, a bit puzzled. John started to feel uncertain, had it been a one-time thing? It might be the whiskey talking, but John laid his hand on Sherlock's knee. Sherlock's eyes tightened, drawing John in. Their faces were no more than 20 centimetres apart, John felt Sherlock's breath on his face, warm, hot, so hot. His dark curls around his face, so pretty. John put down his whiskey glass, reaching up, pulling his fingers through Sherlock's hair, resting his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck. His eyes were firm, taking in John's face. They were closer now, noses almost touching. Sherlock had been the forceful one before, now he was hesitant, but John knew he wanted this.

Their foreheads were resting together. Sherlock closed his eyes "John," he whispered, taking in a deep breath. Their lips met, slowly, Sherlock put his hand on John's hip, and the other holding John's face close to his. Then it hit John like a wave, the kiss became harder, fiercer, full of need.

Sherlock's hands moved under John's shirt, pulling it up, warm fingers tracing his spine. Shivers ran through John's body from Sherlock's soft lips and firm grip. Sherlock had changed again, he was back to being in control. Leaning closer to John, he pushed him on his back. Sherlock rested on top of him. Hips pressed together, feet tangled together, intertwined. Sherlock pulled John's t-shirt over his head, kissing his neck. John groaned.

John pushed Sherlock up on his knees, unbuttoning his shirt, placing kisses where each button exposed new skin. The purple shirt didn't hide much, but his chest was so much better than John had imagined, and he had imagined. It was firm, slender, and full of muscles without being too bulky, his arms around John, holding them together firmly. Kissing each other's necks, their lips met again. John moved his hands to unbutton Sherlock's pants. He needed this so bad, he needed Sherlock to touch him. And he did, moving his hands to John crotch, stroking. John reacted immediately, just looking at Sherlock could do that to him.

Sherlock smiled at him, which just made him harder. John undid Sherlock's zipper. Pulling his pants down to his knees, Sherlock moved John down ontp his back again. Their hips and very erect cocks were rubbing together through what little of clothes they were wearing. Sherlock pulled John's pants down with a yank, underwear going with them. Sherlock's hands teased John, moving closer, but never touching. John arched his pelvis up with a growl, the electric feeling running through all of John was unlike anything else he had ever experienced. Their kisses had become frantic and sloppy now. John had his fingers in Sherlock's hair, trying to press them together closer, if that was even possible.

Sherlock was moving his kisses downward, over John's chest, stomach, hipbones. John felt very uneasy, but it felt so good, he obviously wanted this. Sherlock planted kisses along John's very stiff penis. Reaching the tip, his tongue wrapped around, lips moving up and down. Closing his eyes, John tilted his head back. Pleasure radiated through John and he was not able to think logically. Whether it was the whiskey or the pleasure, he was not sure, but he never wanted it to stop. Sherlock went deeper and John couldn't resist any longer. The orgasm was almost violent but a sheer thrill. Sherlock swallowed John's seed and looked up him, smiling.

John sat up and pulled Sherlock to him, chests together, lips meeting. John could taste himself, but more importantly Sherlock. He wanted to make Sherlock feel the way he had just made him feel. Flipping Sherlock over, he eased him on his back, planting kisses down his chest the way Sherlock had done to him earlier. He could feel Sherlock respond, pressing his hips up towards John. John had never done anything like this before, but he knew what made him moan, so he experimented and Sherlock reacted positively to the attention. A deep sound came from the back of his throat, making John want to continue his assault and give him more. Picking up the pace, he reached Sherlock's underwear. Pulling them down, Sherlock's very erect cock was released from its confines. It was long and lean, and everything John had imagined it to be. He tried to follow Sherlock's example, fumbling a bit, but judging from the sounds it hardly mattered. He took Sherlock's cock in his mouth, moving up and down. He tried to go as deep as he could, a bit unsure of what he was doing. A hand suddenly curled through John's hair, guiding his head to a rhythm, pressing down, pulling up. Sherlock's hips suddenly jerked up involuntarily as he came, John had not expected it and tried to swallow. He gulped most of it down, but some dripped down his chin. Sherlock gave him a predatory grin and pulled John up to his mouth. He licked his seed from John's chin and captured his lips in a heated kiss. John laid down with his head on Sherlock's chest. They were both breathing heavily and Sherlock was stroking his hair. Before John knew it, he fell asleep on Sherlock's chest, sighing contently as he drifted.


	6. Chapter 6 - Grocery Shopping

_As always thanks to the wonderful PixieMiehm for being an amazing beta!_

Chapter 6: Grocery shopping

It had been two weeks since the couch incident. John and Sherlock had been spending a lot of time together alone in John's apartment. Sherlock reading and John trying to do something other than watch him. They barely touched in that time. Once John handed Sherlock a newspaper and their hands touched. It had sent a shiver through John. He wanted to be with Sherlock again, every time that seemed like a good time, Sherlock drew back.

They had talked though, Sherlock had told him about his work, his "cases". John had not believed the things Sherlock did was possible, but he had known things about John that he would have never told him. He had demonstrated it with others as well. They had spent hours looking out the window, Sherlock analysing people. John did still not know much about Sherlock Holmes, but he knew everything about John. They were together doing nothing.

John had asked about Sherlock's sexuality but he had shrugged, turning the question on John. John had not known what to say to that either. He had told Sherlock he had been his first man and Sherlock only smiled at him knowingly. He also tried to ask about _the woman_ from the night in the pub, but Sherlock always managed to change the subject.

Sherlock seemed to always be in his apartment and even slept on John's couch sometimes, but they never went anywhere together. It would have been a love nest, if there had been some love making going on. In those two weeks, John had not seen any of his friends. It had just been him and Sherlock. John really liked him now and not just how he made him feel.

His refrigerator had become alarmingly bare and he needed food. They had been ordering takeaway every night for the last two weeks and John craved real food. Sherlock was sitting on the couch, reading. "Eh, Sherlock," John started, "I am going to the store."

"I don't need anything," Sherlock stated simply, not looking up from his book and John sighed. Sherlock didn't seem to think it was weird being in John's apartment alone. John put on his jacket and shoes, not bothering to grab his keys. The grocery store was just down the street. Walking between the aisles, John put the things he knew Sherlock liked in his cart. He was rounding a corner when he bumped into _the woman_. She was as pretty as John remembered her: long dark hair, bright eyes, and perfectly done makeup.

She smiled at him. "Excuse me," she said, touching his arm lightly. "What a coincidence running into you here," she said it like she and John were good friends and John didn't know how to respond.

"Uh, yes. Nice to meet-uh, see you." John managed to stutter out. She continued to smile at him, her hand still on his arm. She moved a bit closer, looking at him through her eyelashes.

"Do you like what you see?" John flashed red, so she knew he had been staring at her. "You can do more than watch me… if you like." she purred seductively. Her grip on his arm loosened as she started stroking her fingers along his arm instead.

John coughed. "Eh, I have to go. Uh, busy, yeah…very busy." He made his way from her and to the checkout as fast as he could. He realized he forgot to get half of what he went in there for in the first place. He walked hurriedly the entire way home, turning every few steps, expecting to see her behind him.

Reaching the apartment he closed the door, taking a deep breath, back against the door. Sherlock was in the kitchen making tea. He turned when John closed the door, "John? What's wrong?" He sounded genuinely worried.

"Nothing," John sighed "I'm just being stupid." Sherlock looked at him, worry still on his face. "What?" he demanded. John walked into the kitchen and began unpacking the groceries. The kitchen was not very big and therefore he was uncomfortably close to Sherlock. Sherlock stepped even closer.

Taking John's face in his hands, Sherlock forced John to look at him directly. "What happened?" Sherlock repeated and John flushed.

"The woman from the bar." He flushed even deeper because of the look that flashed across Sherlock's face. There were varying degrees of surprise, anger, and embarrassment.

"What did she do?" he asked.

John hesitated, not sure of how he should explain. "She flirted with me. Uh...offered me...things." Sherlock looked away, lips tightening.

"She is not trustworthy," he said as he turned back and gazed into John's eyes again. "Do not get involved with her."

John was surprised. He had never seen this much emotion in Sherlock in the few weeks that he had known him. They hadn't been this close either since that night. They hadn't so much as touched but they were touching now. Sherlock had emotion in his eyes, raw emotion, but John couldn't determine what emotion it was. He had never seen that expression on Sherlock before. A bit unsure what to do, he decided to ask Sherlock to let go of his face, though he didn't want to. "Sherlock," he started, "could you let go of my face."

"No." The grasp on his face firmed, "John," his voice pleaded, it was almost desperate. John could feel anger bubbling up to the surface. All this time, Sherlock had avoided his touch and now he wanted John to give into him?

"Do you like me?" John demanded. Sherlock was surprised, again. Letting go of John's face, Sherlock took a step back, looking at his feet.

"I don't understand," he said, brow furrowed.

John sighed in exasperation, "First, you assaulted me in the library, then you show up here without warning and we go at again. Now, it's been two weeks, TWO WEEKS, and you haven't touched me at all. You draw back every time I try to come near you. But now, when this woman is involved, you suddenly get your knickers in a twist. What the _hell_ is your problem?"

Sherlock looked up, anger apparent in his chiselled features. Stepping forward, he took a film hold of John's forearm and pulled John closer, his other arm snaking around to his back. His kiss was crushing, fierce and he pushed John against the kitchen counter. It hurt, but John didn't care. Sherlock was kissing him again. He pulled John's shirt over his head, throwing it across the room. Sherlock was on him again with hard, fast movements. Lifting himself up on the counter, John wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist and pulled him closer. Sherlock growled, digging his nails into John's back, and descended again for another fiery kiss.

They were both hard now, pressing against each other desperately. Sherlock opened John's pants, quickly yanking them down to his knees. John went with the pants and slipped off of the counter. Sherlock steadied him and turned him around to face the counter and started to kiss his neck. Sherlock's hand, which was resting on John's stomach, started moving slowly toward his aching member. Sherlock wrapped the hand around him and began a slow and torturous rhythm. Sherlock's other hand that was on John's back slowly pushed John until he was bent over the counter. John's hands gripped the kitchen counter and he moaned at Sherlock's slow ministrations. Sherlock opened his own pants and underwear, letting them pool around his ankles. John felt Sherlock's cock poking his ass and gasped. Sherlock sped up his pace on John, stroking harder and faster. John could feel that familiar heat in his stomach. He was so close, close_, oh_. With a strangled cry, he came over Sherlock's fingers. Sherlock removed his hand, touching his own erect cock with John's cum, lube John realized. He had been aware of what was happening, but only now he realized exactly what he was venturing out on.

"Sherlock...lube. I have some in my sock drawer." Sherlock nodded and disappeared quickly. He returned with a small bottle. Sherlock popped the bottle open with a click and coated his fingers.

Sherlock took one finger and slipped it slowly into John. John took some time to adjust and was soon bucking back against Sherlock. Sherlock soon added a second finger and started scissoring them gently. John was groaning and started begging for more. "Sherlock...please," he gasped.

Sherlock moved closer, stroking his cock to coat it with lube and the rubbed his length along John's ass before slowly slipping in. It hurt but he knew it would slowly fade. John felt Sherlock's hand tangle in his hair and pull sharply as Sherlock went in deeper. Sherlock gave John a moment to adjust and John soon moved against Sherlock, letting him know it was okay to move. Sherlock started thrusting, moaning loudly. With his deep register, it sounded like a growl. John gave a strangled moan in return.

It was a strange feeling for John but it felt so right. John knew Sherlock was getting close to his release be he started moving faster, harder, rougher. Then Sherlock pulled out quickly and John felt him come over his ass. "John," Sherlock grunted, breathing heavily. Sherlock pulled John up, locking his arms around him, and kissing his neck gently. He whispered seductively in John's ear, "I do _like_ you." It sounded weird coming from him, but it felt good to hear him say it.

They stood like that for a while, half naked, sweaty, and sticky. Sherlock continued to hold John, kissing his neck and whispering sweet nothings in John's ear.


End file.
